


Perfect

by AntivanCrafts



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, First Crush, tiny babies in tiny relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 23:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14628941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntivanCrafts/pseuds/AntivanCrafts
Summary: Bethany Hawke fell in love when she was six years old with a girl from the neighboring Chasind encampment just down the road. Her name was Ashwyn Fallow, and to Bethany, she was perfect.





	Perfect

Bethany Hawke fell in love when she was six years old with a girl from the neighboring Chasind encampment just down the road. Her name was Ashwyn Fallow, and to Bethany, she was perfect. “We’re going to get married,” she announced at dinner with a proud tilt of her head, sending the untidy braids Aisling had plaited into her hair tumbling over her shoulders. 

Her mama and papa smiled and congratulated her, asking her when the wedding was. Carver pouted and kicked her under the table when she said that it was going to be on her birthday. “And Carver isn’t invited,” she added, glaring at him across the table. He kicked her again, and the pair of them descended into a squabbling, kicking mess until papa tugged their chairs farther apart, saying something about baby birds learning to mind their beaks.

That night, Bethany asked Andraste to make it so they wouldn’t have to move again. “I’ll be very very good,” she whispered into her pillow. She asked Andraste because everyone knew the Maker was a boy, and Andraste had had two whole boyfriends if you counted the Maker, so she would understand. “I won’t put frogs in Carver’s smalls anymore, not for a whole week.” She sealed the promise with spit in her hand, but since Andraste didn’t have a hand to clap together, she did it to herself.

“What’re you doing, Bethy?” Carver murmured from the other side of the bed. Bethany reached out a wet hand and patted his cheek. 

“Getting married, Carver,” she said patiently, because it was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Okay. Just do it quieter.”

Bethany fell asleep dreaming of thick black braids and a gap-toothed grin. The next morning Bethany hurried through her chores as fast as she could, though she had to do them over again after putting the chicken eggs into the pig trough. Mama scolded her and whipped a dishcloth in her direction, but let her go with only a pat on the head when Bethany told her she was going to visit her wife. 

Bethany skipped through the woods to the camp, with a light in her eyes and a bounce in her step. She greeted each of the clan members by name when she passed the borders of the camp, but it wasn’t until she saw Ashwyn that she broke into a run.

Ashwyn had her hair run through with little jangling things today, and as soon as she saw Bethany she pursed her lips in an exaggeratedly serious face the way her elders did when they were in town. She couldn’t hold it for long, though, and soon broke into that familiar grin that Bethany knew she would come home to every day. “I dreamed about you,” she said, and Bethany’s heart went pitter-pat. 

“What did you dream,” Bethany asked, reaching for Ashwyn’s hand without thought, the way you would reach for water or a butterfly. Ashwyn took it halfway there and swung it, beaming that gap-toothed smile.

“I dreamed you were a mage,” Ashwyn laughed. “Isn’t that funny?” She kept on laughing, even when Bethany did not.

“ _I_ don’t think it’s funny,” Bethany said stiffly, tugging her hand away. Her face felt hot and her tunny was twisting itself up in knots. 

“Don’t you like mages?” Ashwyn was frowning again, but this time she looked puzzled, and hurt. “I like them. I talk to our shaman when I have bad dreams, and she says-”

“I don’t care what she says,” Bethany said loudly, thrusting her hands behind her back so Ashwyn wouldn’t see them shake. Bethany remembered seeing a mage in the gibbet at the last crossroads, and the look on papa’s face when he said they had to be careful. That mages could be hurt. That they could die. “Mages are awful, the chantry says so. Mages are bad, and scary, and-”

Ashwyn’s face went pale and then red. “That’s not true!”

“-the chantry says that they eat babies and cavort with demons, and-”

Ashwyn shoved Bethany hard in the chest, making her stumble back. “Go away!” Ashwyn shouted. Her cheeks were wet. If Bethany had felt her own, she’d have that hers were the same. “Go away go away go _away_!”

Bethany was already running.

The next week, papa said it was time to move again. Bethany thought about saying good-bye to Ashwyn, but everything happened so fast that she only had time to whisper it into her hands. “I love my wife, Ashwyn Fallow,” she told Andraste. Her voice was tiny and tinier. “She is smart and brave and likes mages, like my papa. Keep her safe, Andraste.” She patted the whisper into the ground, and then got to her feet to help with the chickens.

Bethany Hawke fell in love with she was six years old with a boy from a neighboring farm just down the road. His name was Jeremiah, and to Bethany, he was perfect.


End file.
